


Not Every Scar is Hidden

by Footloose



Series: Loaded March EXTRAS [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Footloose/pseuds/Footloose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwaine can't help but look.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Every Scar is Hidden

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the Prompt Request #2 Round for Loaded March Extras:
> 
> Prompted by djin7 (LJ):  
>  _"I long for a voyeur!Arthur or Gwaine watching Merlin in the showers at the base in the early stories. So hot. Yum"_
> 
> * * *

Gwaine was an awful, awful person. People accused him of being shameless, but it wasn't really an accusation when it was true.

He couldn't deny it. He had absolutely no conscience when it came to pretty girls and handsome boys. Hell, there wasn't a single person on the team safe from his lecherous tendencies or nonstop flirting.

Lucky for him, his teammates put up with his shite, or they would have beaten him black and blue by now.

Gwaine had always timed his showers depending on his moods. When he was feeling particularly high on himself, he would announce himself unfit for public consumption and follow Arthur to the communal showers, torturing himself with how badly he'd bollocksed up their relationship. Gwaine wasn't an idiot. If he'd known what he'd had when he'd had it, he would've...

He would've...

Honestly, though, he and Arthur weren't a good match. Still, that didn't stop him from looking.

Anyone would; Arthur was _fit_. He was big and broad, meaty and solid, with an arse that had plenty to grab onto. But, alas, they weren't meant to be, and although Arthur would insist that the break-up had been mutual, Gwaine knew better.

He had never been what Arthur needed. Sure, they'd had fun, but neither of them turned to the other when they were feeling low, or were suffering through a particular bad patch.

Gwaine would follow Lucan into the showers when he was up for a bit of self-flagellation. The man was gorgeous, though he didn't seem to know it; self-deprecating and lurking in the shadows because he had some sort of idea that, compared to the rest of them, he was unable to turn any heads. Lucan was built; he had the frame of a triathlete, lithe, compact. He tanned bronze under the sun, a smattering of freckles across his nose and shoulders while Gwaine turned into a lobster. He had dimples in the small of his back and abs that were the very definition of _washboard_ , and Gwaine would happily lick every lean line of Lucan's body if Lucan weren't both completely straight and quick with a knife.

Still, all those _tattoos_... Gwaine wanted the opportunity to count them, up close and personal.

Sometimes, when Gwaine was feeling brutish, he would sneak glances at Kay, who had the heavier build of a MMA fighter. Or he would stare unashamedly at Gareth when he was in the mood for a prank, because he knew nothing could get Lamorak in a lather quite as fast. Bedivere and Bohrs were both big blokes who could crush walnuts with their arse cheeks, and Gwaine liked to watch the way the water played down their muscles. Staring at those two was like watching a free porn show.

He never looked at the G's. There was something uncomfortably incestuous about sneaking a peek at Geraint and Galahad.

Likewise, Leon and Lance were off-limits. He'd been warned in no uncertain terms that Morgana and Gwen would tear his cock off and claw his eyes out, respectively, if he so much as made either of them uncomfortable.

(What the girls didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Lance had a lovely curve to his spine, and Leon's crotch hair was a shade more ginger than the hair on his head.)

Perceval was his favourite, though. Where most of the others would glare at Gwaine until Leon or Arthur walked past and smacked him on the back of the head with a curt "Eyes front", Perceval didn't seem to mind when Gwaine ogled him. He was just that much broader than Bedivere and Bohrs; taller than them all. Perfectly proportioned, with legs like tree trunks and arms like --

Perceval's persistent and pesky heterosexuality was the only thing that prevented Gwaine from climbing Perceval like a mountain. Though it was difficult resisting, _particularly_ on those times when Perceval caught him looking and did a little butt-wriggle-arse-clench-dance that had Gwaine turning around and reciting footie scores from memory before the bloke who just took the shower head next to Gwaine noticed Gwaine's raging hard-on.

Perceval was eye candy, pure and simple. Honestly, the whole team was eye candy, but Perceval more than most.

However, now that Merlin had joined the team --

Perceval was in danger of tumbling down from his number one spot as Gwaine's favourite.

Merlin was _gorgeous_ , plain and simple. Gwaine had thanked his lucky stars with a bitten-lip, late-at-night, lights-out jerk-off the day that Lance had brought Merlin over to their table and revealed him as their new communications officer. Sure, he'd known -- bloody hell, the whole _team_ had known -- that Arthur had a crush on Merlin, but that didn't mean that Gwaine was giving Arthur first dibs.

He wasn't that generous.

Sometimes, Arthur looked at Merlin as if he'd hung the moon, and that and only that was the reason why Gwaine hadn't had a go at Merlin himself.

Yet.

Gwaine could only wait so long for Arthur to get his act together.

Gwaine was biding his time. He wasn't stupid. The team's need for a good communications officer outweighed Gwaine's overwhelming urge to get his dick in that beautiful mouth. They couldn't risk losing Merlin because Merlin was uncomfortable with Gwaine.

It didn't mean that Gwaine couldn't _look_. 

First, Gwaine had learned Merlin's routines. They were easy to pin down; when they weren't on assignment or running some of Arthur's preposterous drills, Merlin tended to follow the same pattern, same as most other army soldiers.

Second, he made a point of just missing Merlin's showers, getting there early enough to see if he had a preference for any particular corner of the building.

Third, Gwaine waited until most of the team were somewhere else, anywhere else, because he could do without their catcalling and warning Merlin off.

And then --

Gwaine stepped up to a shower head one over from Merlin's, hooked his flimsy towel, and turned on the water. He soaked his hair and quickly shampooed through the short scruff -- they were lucky to get a few minutes under the shower stream before the water would be cut off or a bomb warning would send them skittering to barracks, still half-lathered -- and rinsed the suds out.

It was only at that point that Gwaine broke every rule for communal showering and glanced over at Merlin.

_My God._

It was just a quick glance, but it was all that Gwaine needed to get an overview. He'd been right -- Merlin had a tendency to wear clothes wide enough for those delectable shoulders, but that meant adopting a baggy look. 

What a shame, because Merlin --

Gwaine glanced over again. 

_Jesus_.

Merlin had the sort of body that wouldn't be out of place in the swimming pool. He was made up of long lean lines and solid sinew. The veins in his biceps were delectable, but the ones running in parallel with a dusky happy trail leading down to his cock were absolutely mouth-watering. He wasn't as heavily muscled as any of them -- the closest was probably Lucan, but Lucan had at least a stone on Merlin -- but he was lovely, with a perfectly proportioned body and narrow hips and --

Gwaine let his hand brush over his cock a few times, giving it a few reluctant tugs. He was half-hard, and he didn't want to attract any kind of attention. Fortunately, it was late at night -- Merlin seemed to always pick a time to come to the showers when they were in a lull between crowds.

Gwaine looked again.

This time, he flinched.

The team all knew about Merlin's last assignment. Of course they did. Rumours and speculation and a fair bit of Arthur's security clearance and Gwaine's illegal access of personnel files had outlined the bare bones of the incident and the court martial that followed. Lance had refused to look into Merlin's medical files until Merlin showed up for a series of shots, and, well...

Gwaine had been duly warned about the scars. He just hadn't expected them to be _this_ bad.

There was an unmistakeable bullet scar under his armpit, right where the Kevlar didn't quite fit properly or cover. Bad luck, that -- it was a million to one odds, but it was a definite kill-shot, though it wouldn't kill quickly. Whoever had come to Merlin's rescue had done so at the right time, because he'd survived, though there were signs of multiple surgeries, one on top of the other.

Scars were sexy. The birds liked scars. Other blokes thought scars made a man look tough.

Seeing Merlin like this made something break inside, knowing that he'd gone through battlefield surgery to keep him alive long enough for evac to the hospital in Germany, that he'd barely survived the first and second surgeries, that he'd been in a bloody _wheelchair_ when he'd been put up on those rubbish court-martial charges.

Merlin moved stiffly as he washed. He didn't raise that arm more than he had to. He was simultaneously hiding his injury and protecting his weak side, even though he must be fully healed by now, or he wouldn't be back in active duty.

All thoughts -- _nearly_ all thoughts; Gwaine wasn't dead -- of ogling Merlin further disappeared, replaced with concern. He started to step forward, to reach out to ask if Merlin needed a hand, inappropriate thought that was, when a familiar body blocked the way.

Arthur whipped the towel from his shoulder and hung it on the hook. He twisted the water on, waiting the requisite few seconds for the water to go from tepid-cold to tepid-warm. He started to soap up his chest, blocking the _vision_ that was Merlin.

By the time Gwaine focused on Arthur's stone-stormy expression, he'd gotten the hint. 

Arthur was being a protective prat -- more than he'd ever been when they dated. But maybe he had a reason to be. Merlin's scars looked bad, and maybe the wounds ran deeper than any of them could see.

Gwaine raised both brows at Arthur and nodded, opting not to mention how it was Arthur's _second_ shower in as many hours. He turned off the water, took his towel, and swirl-whipped Arthur on the way out.

There would be plenty of other opportunities to stare at Merlin's arse later.


End file.
